


How's the Weather Down There?

by Nononlnkink



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: (not really) - Freeform, A friend suggested this, Everyone is a nerd, Fluff and Humor, M/M, big surprise there, horrible jokes, i am not sorry for them okay, short people problems, so I wrote it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9863939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nononlnkink/pseuds/Nononlnkink
Summary: Prowl was short. No one really noticed it much up until Jazz starts to play pranks on his bondmate. Then everyone wants in.A collection of drabbles in which Prowl experiences what it's like to be the shortest non-minibot on the Ark.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My beta and a muse teamed up to give me this idea. It just made me smile because the possibilities of adorable Jazz/Prowl shenanigans were endless! Hopefully I've done it to acceptable standards, haha. Anyway, enjoy and don't forget to leave some kudos or a comment! 
> 
> "Talking"  
> ::Commlink::  
> :: _Bondspeak_ ::

There was muffled grumbling coming from Prowl’s office. Jazz could hear it through the wall. He was curled on the floor, laughing hysterically. The grumbling turned into a sharp curse then disappeared before there was a bang on Jazz’s door. It slid open to reveal a  _ very  _ irritated Prowl. His doorwings were hiked up into a sharp ‘V’ and his arms were crossed. The glare didn’t soften even at the sight of his mate rolling across the floor in hysterics. 

“Jazz, would you be willing to explain why you have placed all of your reports on my top shelf?”

“Oh Primus,” Jazz managed to wheeze in between fits of laughter, “best idea ever.”

Prowl’s scowl deepened. “Those reports are not only late, but-”

“Relax, love, I’ll get ‘em down.” Jazz bounced to his feet and slipped past Prowl, patting a doorwing as he did so. Prowl huffed, but followed him into the hallway and his much neater office. Jazz had to stand on the tips of his pedes to reach the top shelf, while Prowl was unable to do so even after trying to jump up and snatch at the datapads. With a cheeky grin, Jazz swept them into his arms and plopped them on Prowl’s desk. 

Prowl immediately went to organize them into neater stacks based on importance and urgency, grumbling about bondmates with nothing better to do than give the other more work. Jazz beamed and skipped back to his office.

It was becoming a regular situation in Prowl’s life. A regular annoyance. It had just been Jazz at first, hiding things on high shelves or teasingly holding something out of his reach. Then it seemed the whole Ark was willing to participate. Prowl soon found other mechs’ reports taped above his door or one of his brothers would leave him something on the top of the filecase in his quarters. Jazz, of course, was only encouraged by the support. 

As much as Prowl was annoyed at the sudden increase in awareness of his height, he didn’t do anything to try and curb the behavior. Pranks had decreased as more and more of Prowl’s reports and personal items began to disappear to high places. He could bare having to drag his chair over to shelves or getting someone else to get things down only to avoid the massive amounts of paperwork that pranks caused. 

There was a rattling boom. 

If only Wheeljack’s experiments could be said to have had similar effects. Prowl sighed as he hopped off his chair and rolled it back behind his desk before setting off to see what Wheeljack had managed to blow up this time. Hopefully he might get there before the inventor’s furious conjunx and his wrench. 

* * *

 

Prime, at least, had yet to engage himself into the ‘is this too high for Prowl?’ game. Yet. 

Then they were busy in the command tracking some human missile that had been stolen and launched by the Decepticons. There were a few troops already sent out to try and do some damage control. Everyone bustled around, hurrying and refusing to rest until the situation was once again deemed safe. Prowl had calculated that the missile would land in the Pacific Ocean and was organizing teams to go and retrieve it before anything could be salvaged by the enemy faction. Once that had been settled and things slowed back down, Optimus surprised Prowl by giving him a sidelong look and then innocently asked, “How are things down there?”

Prowl didn’t respond, much to Prime’s amusement. 

* * *

 

Prowl hopped and swiped at the mockingly close cube of energon. Jazz had swept by with Prowl’s ration and had gone to set it on his desk before getting a mischievous smile and turned to deposit it on the now daily used shelf. Prowl had just watched his mate with a tired expression. It had been three human weeks since the beginning of this game and there had yet to be a break. Jazz had made up for putting his mate’s energon out of his reach by giving him a quick peck on the lips as he left. 

Now here he was, two hours later and still no closer to that stupid cube. Jazz had dropped by a few times to check on him and had left clutching his sides and cackling. Prowl was just about ready to march over to their shared quarters to demand that Jazz come and get it down when there was a polite ping from the door. Prowl spun towards the door with a suspicious scowl. 

::Prowl.::

The familiar voice that answered wasn’t the one he was expecting. ::It’s Ratchet. I have something for you.::

Prowl keyed the door open and stood back to let the medic in. Sharp optics immediately spotted the energon and a smile took the place of the usual frown. “Looks like you need a hand.”

“That would be much appreciated, although I was going to drag Jazz here to get it down since he so kindly placed it there in the first place.” 

“He should know better than to keep energon away from you,” Ratchet grunted as he fumbled for the cube. He successfully grabbed it and passed it to the Praxian. “Anyway, brought something I think might help.”

From his subspace, Ratchet produced a two step ladder and thunked it on the ground. Prowl couldn’t help the slight smile at the object. “Wheeljack found this the other day while cleaning out some of his old equipment.”

“Thank you.” Prowl said as he folded it up and stowed it to the side for future use. He knew he’d need it. 

* * *

 

" Sideswipe, I need you to fall back.” 

Sideswipe refused to acknowledge the comm from his superior officer and focused on the Seeker before him. Skywarp always seemed to find himself teamed up on by the twins-he was their favorite target after all. It was a challenge for them. He could teleport for Primus’ sake and yet here the Seeker was, being beat into the ground.

“Fall  _ back _ , Sideswipe.” 

Sunstreaker suddenly snapped at him from the other side of their bond. :: _ Prowl wants us back. I don’t want another lecture so move your aft! _ ::

Skywarp actually seemed disappointed by the twins breaking off and transforming. 

By the time they reached Prowl’s little command center, they were still buzzing with energy. The Praxian was giving them his patented icy stare. As they transformed back to root mode and walked up to him, Prowl dryly commented, “You took your time.”

“Didn’t want to leave Skywarp without sparring partners.” Sideswipe ignored his brother’s eye roll and Prowl’s unimpressed look. “Whatcha need, Prowl?”

Prowl pointed at the few mechs flurrying behind him. Bluestreak waved at them. “Mirage has requested sniper assistance. Bluestreak is going to join him, but not without an escort. You are to get Bluestreak to his position then assist Mirage’s team.”

“Yes!” Sideswipe hopped around Prowl to sweep Bluestreak into a crushing hug. The gray Praxian squeaked and struggled to get out of the death grip. Sideswipe dropped him to turn his excited grin on his brother. “About time we did something other than simply being pointed at the ‘Cons and told to go at them.”

Sideswipe held up his hand, giving Sunstreaker an expectant look. The yellow twin rolled his optics again but complied with the high five. Prowl immediately snapped at them to get moving. Sideswipe bounced back over to Blue, but Sunstreaker gave the SIC an amused glance. “No need to get huffy on us. We won’t high five over your head again, promise.”

As he joined his twin and Bluestreak, Prowl grumbled under his breath, “I highly doubt that.”

* * *

 

The human dignitary looked around them in confusion. Jazz cocked his head while Optimus continued talking over some possible Decepticon defenses around nearby human areas. Was the human even paying attention? When there was a lull in Prime’s little speech, the human’s arm darted into the air. Optimus blinked in surprise and whatever he was going to say was effectively cut off. 

“What does that mean?” Jazz whispered. None of the officers surrounding him answered. 

“If it is alright with you, Prime sir, may I ask where the other robot is?”

“I do not believe I know who you are speaking of.” 

The human waved his arms about. “You know, the one with doors on his back?”  _ Smokescreen?  _ “Darker coloring.”  _ No. Blue? _ At the lack of response from his mechanical audience, the human huffed. “The short one?”

“You mean Prowl?” Ironhide immediately responded. Jazz had to fight down laughter at the automatic response. ‘The short one’-that was  _ gold _ . 

“Yes, Prowl!” The human clapped his hands together. “Where is he? I was told that he was the one preparing the plans for our defenses. I don’t-”

“Prowl was unable to attend,” Prime smoothly interrupted. “However, if you wish to speak with him, I believe he is scheduled to return to the Ark in three hours.”

When the dignitary finally signed off, the officers exploded into laughter and Optimus grinned. 

* * *

 

Prowl would never admit it, but he was always kind of glad to be standing in front of the minibots. Bumblebee had knowing look on his face, but the others were too busy exchanging semi-heated snips with the twins. 

Prowl  _ really  _ couldn’t help it. He enjoyed being around the minibots, although not necessarily for their charming personalities. It was more the fact that they were the only other Autobots that he could tower over. It felt nice to not be the butt end of the short jokes every once and awhile. So if he ignored the small mechs getting into fights with Sunstreaker every once and awhile...or at least give them a decreased punishment, no one was the wiser.

“Hey, you guys know why Prowl gets mad so easily?”

“I don’t think Prowl really-”

“Shh! Just say ‘why?’.”

“Oh! Why?”

“Because he has a  _ short  _ temper.”

Hound fell off his chair he was laughing so hard. Trailbreaker was looking rather proud of his joke. The other Autobots gathered around had all snickered. Gears enthusiastically raised his hand in the air.

“I got one, I got one!”

Trailbreaker beamed. “Shoot.”

“Know why-”

“Gears, if you finish that sentence I  _ promise _ that you will  _ not _ be waking up tomorrow.”

Everyone scattered as their fuming SIC stalked into the room with a cackling Jazz trailing behind. Prowl turned his glare on his mate. “I am pleased to see that you are finding this amusing.”

“What can I say, Prowler? It’s true that the short ones are full of rage and murderous tendencies.”

“I am putting you on monitor duty for the rest of your swiftly decreasing life span.”

* * *

 

:: _ Jazz? _ ::

:: _ Yeah, sweetspark? _ ::

:: _ You do not happen to have a small step ladder in your possession, do you? _ ::

:: _ Uh, no, why? _ ::

:: _ No reason. Thank you. Please inform the twins, should you see them, that I wish to see them before their patrol shift starts _ .::

:: _ Sure thing. Are ya sure everythin’s okay? _ ::

:: _ Jazz- _ ::

:: _ Prowler _ .::

:: _ Very well. Note that if you laugh I will immediately associate this incident with you _ .::

:: _ Pfft, sure. And I’ll get dumped on the ‘Cons’ front door _ .::

:: _ The stool that Ratchet and Wheeljack generously gave me has gone missing. _ ::

:: _ Missin’? _ ::

:: _ Yes, Jazz, missing _ .::

The bond was flooded with Jazz’s amusement. Prowl retaliated with his own frustration. :: _ Is this you confessing to taking it? _ ::

:: _ Primus, no! That’s just the best idea I’ve ever heard! Why didn’t I think of that? _ ::

Prowl slammed his wall down on his side of the bond. No need to let his giggly mate interfere with his investigation with snarky comments or cheeky questions. He keyed his office door locked and strode off towards the rec room. He’d find the mech who thought it was a good idea to sneak his stool and, to take Jazz’s advice to heart, ‘dump them on the ‘Cons’ front door’. Was it bad that he was hoping it was specific mechs? It would make life on the  _ Ark _ much easier without dealing with them for a few days, so it wasn’t a selfish hope.

Okay, maybe a little. 

* * *

 

Prowl glared at the towering stacks of reports hazardly hanging off the edge of his shelves. He had tried to reach them and while he could reach some by standing on his chair, the datapads pushed further back were impossible to grab. So, here he was, waiting for the datapads to fall off the shelf and onto the pile of pillows and berth lining that he had set out to prevent any from breaking. It was so kind of Jazz to offer his berth things for the greater good of his reports. 

So far none had tipped far enough to cause an avalanche. Prowl knocked on one of the lower shelves. He immediately had to dive to the side to avoid getting crushed by his paperwork. There were no sounds of glass shattering behind him, but he was still a little nervous to turn around. It would be just his luck if someone walked in his office in time to witness his near death by datapads. He allowed the sensors in his doorwings to map out the room behind him and search for any signatures of other Cybertronians in the hallway. 

Empty, thank Primus. 

Prowl spun around, dialling back his wing sensors, to get to work at sorting his new-found, reachable workload. It was going to be a long shift. 

* * *

 

It was tradition for them to give each other a welcome home kiss after a mission. Usually one or the other would end up in the medbay, so Prowl was always able to reach his mate’s face with no trouble. On the days that neither of them were out for the count, however, there could be a few issues. Prowl could reach Jazz’s lips if he stood on the tips of his pedes and leaned forward. Jazz could easily reach Prowl just by bending down, but Jazz tended to tease Prowl, leaning back just out of his reach until Prowl smacked him. 

This time was no different. Jazz was laughing as Prowl grumpily glared at him. “Jazz.”

“Oh, hey Prowler. Didn’t see ya down there.”

“Jazz, so help me, I will kick you.”

With a mock sigh, Jazz leaned down only for Prowl to step back with a smug face and spin around to march away. “Oi! Where ya goin’? Come back here!” He darted after his mate, much to his mission team’s amusement. 

* * *

 

Prowl nearly did a double-take when he strode into his office. There, smack in the center of his office, was the lousy stool. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. This was  _ ridiculous _ . 

At least, the stool had been rightfully returned...although Prowl was a little skeptical of the new scratches it sported. Where had it even been? 

* * *

 

Spike had lowered the radio so that he could be heard over it. “Yeah, actually. We call him ‘fun sized’. You know, like the mini candy bars?”

Jazz was entirely enthralled in his little human companion’s words. Fun sized? That sounds like the best method of measurement yet! 

“Then there’s ‘travel sized’. That’s more because the airports only let things specific sizes in suitcases and then on the planes. It’s weird, but whatever.” Spike shrugged. “I don’t like that one as much because it’s not like I’m going to carry him around.”

“That’s brilliant!”

“Really? You think so? They’re just nicknames.”

“Sure, but I was runnin’ out of short-themed ones for Prowler.”

Spike frowned. “Don’t you think he’s getting a little tired of being teased like this?”

“Nah,” Jazz would have shrugged if he wasn’t currently in his alt-mode, “if Prowler didn’t like it, he’d have stopped it awhile ago.”

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence the rest of the drive to the  _ Ark _ . Neither were surprised to see Prowl resting outside, bookfile in hand. Jazz made sure to rev his engine to get his mate’s attention. There was that wonderful, strut-melting smile of his. Prowl stowed his bookfile in his subspace and stood to meet the Porsche. Jazz opened a door to let Spike out before transforming. He pulled Prowl into a quick hug. 

“Heya, fun size!”

Prowl immediately glared down at their human friend. “I see someone has been learning human slang.”

Spike darted into the Ark before Prowl could say anything else. Jazz mock frowned and pulled Prowl back into the hug to regain his attention. “Don’t be jealous, travel sized.”

“Travel sized? That has to be the worst one I have heard-Jazz!” Prowl’s clipped words ended with a startled yelp. Jazz had swept Prowl off his pedes and was holding him bridal-style. “Let me down!”

“Nah.” Jazz pressed a kiss to his mate’s chevron. “I think travel size is the best one yet.” 

* * *

 

“ _ Jazz! I swear if you have taken my stool again, I am going to tear you apart!” _

Everyone laughed as a black and white blur flashed past, followed by a furious Praxian. At his glare, they scattered. Once he had stormed past, someone whispered from the back, “Short temper.”

The uproarious laughter nearly made Prowl double back and stuff them all into the brig. His mate was getting away, cackling the entire time, but Prowl figured he could at least stop to shout at those assembled. “Anyone found to have helped Jazz will be joining him on monitor duty for the next two weeks.” Prowl smirked at the groan. “Anyone who assists in the capture of Jazz and bring him to my office will be rewarded with an extra off-duty shift during the same two weeks.” Everyone scattered again, this time to track down the wayward saboteur.  


* * *

 

Megatron’s smug face filled Teletraan’s main screen. Prowl and the other officers had made themselves comfortable towards the back of the command deck while Prime was lead into another meaningless argument. Ironhide was checking his cannon over, it looked like Wheeljack was in the middle of an enthusiastic conversation with Perceptor while Ratchet was leaning against him, the medic might  _ actually  _ be in recharge now that Prowl was looking. Blaster would wander over the communication hub to look things over then wander back to talk to Jazz. Red Alert had left earlier, grumbling about wasting his time and something about his cameras. That left Prowl, the only one who was actively following their Prime’s conversation with the crazed warlord. 

“I highly doubt-”   


“Sorry, Prime, it’s too late-”

“Megatron-”

“Soundwave! Has Starscream reached his destination?” Megatron turned to look at his officer off the screen. His optics lit up at whatever the answer was. “Then pull up the footage so that our dear friends can see.”

Megatron disappeared, replaced with recordings of Starscream yelling about one thing or another. It didn’t worry Prowl considering that the footage looked like it had been hastily stitched together. Prime clearly noticed as well, if his long-suffering sigh was anything to go by. 

“Megatron, this is pointless. I don’t understand why you keep doing this.”

There was silence from the Decepticon side before a very put out, “Very well. Megatron out.” There was some static before the link finally was cut. Although that might have been Blaster considering he had made his way back to his post again.

Prowl approached Optimus with a small smile. “At least it was not an attack.”

“Yes, true.” Prime’s optics crinkled in a smile. “I would rather deal with random calls about nothing than a true attack that can result in casualties.”

Prowl nodded in agreement. 

Jazz and Blaster were chatting behind him and they suddenly exploded into giggles. “OP, you might wanna see this.” Jazz winked at Prowl before turning his attention back to the screen.

Prowl made to move out of his Prime’s way, but was mortified to find himself suddenly hoisted in the air and set down a little to the left. He watched as Prime stooped over to see what had two of his officers in hysterics, apparently unfazed at having  _ picked up _ and  _ moved _ his second in command. Some sleep chuckles from a still-slumped over Ratchet nearly made Prowl blush. He hoped he could bribe Red Alert into deleting that particular scene. 

* * *

 

Jazz watched his mate glare daggers at the cube sitting on his shelf. “Babe, do ya want me to get it?”

Prowl’s wings twitched at the unexpected offer. “Does this mean you have finished with your game?”   


“Nah, but ya look half-dead. I thought Ratch got after ya about working late.”

“Regardless of whether Ratchet has spoken to me or not, I would appreciate if you could get my ration down.”

Jazz stretched up and hooked the tip with one finger. He carefully slid it off the edge and into his hands. Prowl gracefully took and smiled in thanks. He went around his desk to sit in his comfortable chair while Jazz  dragged the stool from the corner and plopped himself on it. He leaned forward to rest his chin in a hand, fine with watching Prowl work. It wasn’t until Prowl coughed that he realized he must have dozed off.

“Can you help me reach that datapad there?” Prowl pointed and Jazz stood with a stretch and went to get it down. Much to his surprise, it was just out of his reach. He gave Prowl a shocked glance. 

“I can’t reach it.”

“Oh, is that so? How annoying. Hmm, I suppose I’ll comm Prime and ask him for assistance.”

“No need to do that, Prowler. I can get it, just need some help is all.”

“Help?” And once again Prowl found himself in Jazz’s arms, looking up at an incredibly smug face. He could see the mischief in Jazz’s optics even with the blue-tinted visor in the way. “Jazz…”

“Relax, sweetspark, I won’t drop you. Just reach up and grab it.”

Prowl grudgingly did as he was told. With the datapad safely in his grasp, Prowl found himself suddenly back on the ground. Jazz bent over to place a kiss on Prowl’s lips. “See? Travel sized fits.”

Prowl found himself unable to help a soft chuckle. 


End file.
